The Way it Should have Been
by a-stranger-angel
Summary: A rewrite of the end of the Buffy the Vampire Series. Ignores the ending of Buffy, the Angel series, and the comic series. Some characters who died in series will live, some of the characters who lived died/will die. Rated M for later chapters.


Life after the Hellmouth.

AU for the Series Finally of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Some changes in character death, some characters lived when they died in series, some characters died who lived in series.

I wish I owned Spike but I don't. All characters belong to Joss Whedon, I merely play with the plot.

-

He didn't know how the hell she had done it but she had. Then again he had always known she was a bloody miracle. The back windows of the bus were blacked out, with the last bus seat on the right side designated for their little family, and the couple of personal items they'd been able to bring, along with their rations and weapons tucked up under the seat. A photo of Joyce with her girls. Mr. Gordo with the skull ring Spike had used to propose during Red's spell tied around it's neck. A change of clothes for everyone. His duster. The Bit's security blanket. The Scythe. Mr. Pointy. Spike and Dawn's favorite swords. Some random axe that Buffy might have stuck in or maybe ended back there just to be stored to save space for a wounded. Cooler with some blood, bottles of water. Some non-perishables.

And the new addition of burn ointment from the med kits made of supplies taken from the hospital, while they were safe Spike couldn't say he, or Buffy for that matter, were really in that good of shape. The last thing he remembered before waking up in the back of the van was being on fire, burning, bright from the inside out. Buffy telling him she loved him. Him telling her that she didn't, thanks for saying it though. Then nothing, blackness, but now that he thought about it it was hard to tell if he was really passed out then, or if his eyes had just burned to bits, if he couldn't feel anything or if his nerves were just shot to hell. He decided he didn't really want to know. He only thanked a combination of the Powers That Be and Buffy that he wasn't just more dust left in the bottom of the crater that was now Sunnydale, CA. The last thing he remembered was her holding his hands and swearing on everything holy and unholy that she was not leaving that hell hole without him, she was never leaving him again. He'd begged, tried to force her to let go of him, but then the heat, searing slayer-flesh and vampire-flesh together into one mass until he couldn't tell where his hand ended and hers began.

But she did it, bloody woman always seemed to do it. Closed the hellmouth and saved his sorry arse in the process.

He shouldn't be this happy. There were so many dead, he shouldn't be this happy.

But he was. He was scrunched up on a bus seat too short to really fit his entire body, with Buffy clinging to what was left of his scorched t-shirt, tucked up into his side. One arm danged off the narrow seat they shared to hold Dawn's hand, Dawn of whom had given up her bench across the aisle to sleep on the floor beside them, too exhausted and too relieved they had made it out alive. She needed to make sure they were there when she woke up, that this wasn't all just a dream. He smiled and pressed a kiss to Buffy's forehead, wincing as it stretched one of his burns. Drifting off he felt relieved, like for the first time in a long time everything was going to be alright and let the other sounds from the bus drift in and out of his ears.

The bird, Anya, was in poor shape, it was a miracle she made it out alive and it was still touch and go. The Whelp and Andrew were gathered around her bench stuffing a sword wound with cotton and trying to staunch the bleeding. The only reason she was alive was because she was a demon, whether that would be enough to pull her out of this had yet to be seen.

Willow was... the best way Spike could even think to describe it to himself was that she was still high. Her hair was bright white, ethereal, she was less human now. More like some sort of Wiccan Goddess. Like a younger, brighter version of the woman from the tomb who told Buffy the story of the Scythe. Absent-mindedly he wondered if she was one of them now. She was happier than he had seen her in years, since Tara's death. But then again, that look of pure bliss might have something to do with the fact that she kept saying she was talking to Tara, that Tara was there. He couldn't be happier for the bint that she was out of her wits right then, he didn't want to be the one to have to tell her that Kennedy was listed among the dead. While Buffy had a bleeding awful taste in men he couldn't say Red had any better luck when it came to women.

There was relief, but there were very few smiles. There were very few slayers left. Trying to be optimistic he'd say there was maybe a third of them left. All tired. All broken. All missing a close friend, or more. Faith was doing a roll call with Principal Wood while Giles drove them out of town as fast as he could.

He moved a bit on the seat, trying to get comfortable, but stopped when he heard her whimper, smelled her blood. It was fresh.

He groaned, his own burns and cuts stretching, adding his blood to mingle with hers. "Vi! The Slayer, she's bleeding." She moaned as he shifted her on to the bus seat by herself, sitting by the side while clutching her hand that wasn't still being clutched and clutching Dawn's. Dawn was suddenly wide awake.

"Spike, what's wrong, what is it, is she gonna be okay?"

"Shh, nibblet, let's let the Doc here take a look before we worry too much. 'Sides, sis's the slayer, she's strong and has seen the worst, I'm sure whatever it is she'll beat it and be back to beatin' me in no time." Cloaking his own worry from Dawn's eyes he substituted his fears for a cheeky grin, the kind he knew she associated with him and her sister and everything being as safe and right as it could be in a make-shift family of a mystical key, a chipped-turned-soulful vampire, and a vampire slayer. Not that they had ever been a real family altogether, but that was going to change. Now. Now that they had survived it all, now that she had told him she loved him. Gently as he could he shooed Dawn up toward the front of the bus to check in on Anya, Andrew, and Xander. He didn't want her to see Vi assess the wound, or all the blood.

As Vi passed Dawn in the aisle Spike tenderly pulled up the hem of her shirt, rolling it up to assess the wound that would inevitably be beneath it, too frightened of what might lie beneath to even skim the tips of his fingers across the smooth expanse of skin between the tops of her jeans and her belly button. The bloody mess beneath had him shaking, it wasn't even the entry wound. He gently rolled her over to get a look at her back, if his stomach hadn't been mostly empty he was certain he would have thrown up. It made sense now, why she had whimpered like a wounded animal but had yet to wake up, she had taken a sword clear through her back and out her stomach.

Vi blanched as she came to stand beside him, "Spike, this... this doesn't look good. In all the chaos I'd forgotten she'd gotten this one, but I was there when this happened. It was one of those uber-vamps, it... it got her. She had fallen when it happened, even handed off the Scythe to Faith. She hadn't thought she'd make it, I'm surprised she had managed to not only get back to her feet but continue to fight, and even get the two of you out of there. I'm not sure how much I can do."

Spike growled, starting out low in his chest it built to a full fledged roar that threatened to shake the bus. They'd stopped now, just far enough from the crater to avoid the risk of slipping off over the edge and into the rubble. The view from the edge was spectacular, carnage his demon could appreciate with the peace of knowing the hellmouth was closed for business that the man/soul could be grateful for. But both sides of Spike were busy, worrying over the woman he considered his mate in essence if not in deed. "You fix her. You fix her right now!" He howled broken sobs that ripped out of his throat from his very core, sounding more like a broken animal than a vampire or a man.

"Spike, there isn't much I can do for her. She's strong. The last purely called Slayer, all we can do right now is patch her up as best as possible and hope her slayer healing will be enough to save her. She's retreated into herself, to try and hide from the pain, we just need to hope for the best. Let me get some bandages and supplies to staunch the wound from the front, I'll tell Dawn to stay up there while we work." Holding back tears he nodded, listening to Buffy's heartbeat and trying to be thankful that it still sounded fairly strong, especially for the amount of blood she'd lost. Vi, anxious to grab supplies and hopefully give Spike the opportunity to calm down. Vi out of sight Spike screwed up his face, lowering his lips to the wound, tenderly trying to clean it and seal it shut though knowing it was probably futile with the combination of how deep and wide the wound was.

Vi struggled when she reached the back of the bus again to not yank the grieving monster-man's head away from the wounded woman who lay unresponsive in front of him. Every slayer-enhanced bone in her body was screaming to stake him, her fingers itching to grab the stake still stuck in the waistband of her pants. The other side of her was clinging to the knowledge of the man in him, the one with the soul, the one everyone knew loved Buffy, who had helped her train, had even tended to her wounds and showed her some of the patch up techniques she had been using. Gently she put a hand on the top of Spike's head, alerting him to her presence and despite everything, was surprised as he immediately looked up, no game face in sight.

"Sorry, Pet, should have warned you. Useful thing, vampire saliva. It helps seal and disinfect wounds. Didn't mean to scare you. " His eyes were still weepy but he looked a little stronger now, less pale, and a little more the man she had known before the fight. The blood he had cleaned away had brought a fresh flush to his face, and some of the lesser burns were starting to fade. Nodding and handing him a wad of cotton packing and a handful of bandages she pushed her slayer senses aside, easier than she would have expected while together they set to putting Buffy to rights.

-

"Ahn, Anya, come on, open those eyes for me." Xander was crouched between the seat in front of him and the seat Anya lay on, gripping her hand until his knuckles looked bright white as Spike's hair. "Baby, please wake up." He leaned in to her, burying his face into the crook of her neck while being careful to not jostle her too badly. She'd lost just so much blood. Anya's lips were tinged blue-grey to match her faded skin, the hand he was holding was cold. She breathed shakily but enough to tell she was alive but there wasn't much more to it. She was fading.

Dawn crept up close to the grieving man, watching as Anya's breaths became shallower with each rise and fall of her chest which seemed to take longer and longer to come. "There has to be something we can do." She whispered, careful to not disturb Xander who was now whispering endearments, telling Anya over and over again how much he loved her and how much of an idiot he was to have not married her when he had the chance. Andrew came up to stand beside her.

"There was no reason for her to be dead. The school was falling apart, Spike must have been doing his thing, the fighting was over, we were leaving. It was one of the last ones to get out before... before the Hellmouth started to cave in. It just... just got her. I... I think the only reason she is still alive is because she is a demon, but... but its not enough." Tears were shining on his face now. "Maybe, maybe Willow could fix her, but we can't snap her out of it, and... and no one wants to have to tell her about Kennedy."

Dawn nodded in agreement. Losing one lover was enough, losing a second just when she was starting to heal from the first, no one wanted to chance breaking her and letting Evil!Willow out. Especially after such a strong use of magic. No one was strong enough to deal with that, no one was strong enough to stop her, and no one wanted to lose another friend. They had already lost too much.

"Ohh! Andrew, demon!"

"What?"

"Anya has a friend, Hallie... er... Helfrik. She's a vengence demon like Anya, she won't want her to die. And think of it, she deals mostly with kids, well here are a lot of grieving kids who just want the death to stop. They have no families to go back to, this is there family and its dying around them. She has to be listening. She has to be feeling this. All we need is to make a wish. One wish, Andrew. One wish and we could save Anya, save Buffy. Hell, we might even be able to wish back those who died!"

"Dawn." Xander had heard that last statement and snapped up from Anya, "I think we've all learned our lesson from bringing back Buffy. They are gone."

"Yes, Dawn, I know you are grieving. I know many of these girls you consider your friends and family now, but bringing them back? Their sacrifice is what helped the Hellmouth to close. However, I remember your stories about this... Helfrik and I do know Anya and she were close. Maybe summoning her to at least see her friend one last time is not such a bad idea. I do, however, caution you from getting your hopes up, and from making any rash wishes. Be careful you mean every word you say when you make this wish. And that you realize the consequences such a wish could create." Giles had moved from his place in the driver's seat to check in.

Dawn nodded and closed her eyes. "Helfrik! I know you can hear me, and the slayers. Anya is dying please... Buffy is dying. Can you hear us? Please come, heal us, we can't bear to lose any more of our family... please."


End file.
